Bittersweet
by JPsmiles
Summary: Baked goods have a strong impact on Face...especially during Christmas.
1. Chapter 1

Title: Bittersweet: A Christmas Story

Rating: PG

Warnings: Spoilers for "In Plane Sight"

Note: Liauno sent me the story idea (thanks Lia!) with the basic guidelines and I took it from there.

September 1983

Face swallowed the last bite of his cookie. It was bittersweet…the moment, not the cookie.

For most people, cookies represented childhood, innocence and warm memories of a happy time. Unfortunately for Face, at this moment they also represented the team's payment for the last mission...and they weren't about to let him forget it!

"You never did tell us why you agreed for us to do this job for free," Hannibal said as they walked away from Jes and Carrie Hicks' farm and toward the van.

Face stopped walking and put his hands on his hips. "Can't a guy simply decide to do something out of the goodness of his heart?"

"Not when that guy is you he can't!" B.A. snickered.

"You have to admit, Face, it was a little strange coming from you," Murdock said.

"Yeah, and if there one thing Murdock know, it's strange." B.A. added.

Face doubted they would understand, but he also knew they wouldn't let up until he gave them an explanation. He shoved his hands inside his jacket pocket to keep them still. He had a tendency to talk with his hands when he was nervous…and he was definitely nervous. Taking a deep breath he asked, "You remember when Mrs. Hicks dropped something in the kitchen and I went to see if she was okay? Well, when she and I were alone…"

Murdock rubbed his two pointer fingers together and said in a British accent. "Naughty, naughty, oh Facial-stud. Mrs. Hicks, or Carrie to you I suppose, is a married lady. And quite a few years your senior, I might add."

"Anyway," Face said deliberately, shooting Murdock a sharp look, "she told me I reminded her of her son. Then when she found out I was an orphan, she asked me who sent me cookies when I was in the Army." Face paused, unsure of how to put into words what he wanted to say next.

"Cookies?" Hannibal asked, confused. "so _that's_ why she made you those cookies?"

"Cookies!" B.A. growled. "You volunteered us over cookies?"

"Yes…um, no…well, yes." Face stammered.

"Fool, you better be plannin' on sellin' some of them cookies and getting' us some cash."

"You would make an awfully cute Girl Scout, Facey" Murdock said, batting his eyelashes in his direction.

"Knowing Face, he'd probably wind up dating his troop leader," Hannibal laughed.

"Very funny, guys," Face said trying to hide his unease, but he really wanted them to listen. "Let me explain…there was more to it than just cookies."

Hannibal put an arm around Face's shoulder. Cigar dangling out of one side of his mouth, he spoke out of the other. "Sure there was more than cookies…I'll bet there was milk too," he teased. "Since our Lieutenant is feeling so generous, we can take 10% of all his future cookie sales as pay...or send the bill to Face directly."

"Oh, just forget it. Have your fun...I'll be waiting in the van." Face pulled away from Hannibal and walked off deflated.

Face was quiet during the ride back to Los Angeles. Ever the conman, he put on just enough of an act to keep the rest of the team satisfied that all was well. He nodded at the right times, smiled when looked at, and gave one word answers when spoken to. He spent most of the trip looking out the window watching the world pass by in a blur. But instead of really seeing it, he was replaying that day in the kitchen over and over again in his mind.

There is a crash…the sound of glass breaking. He puts his bowl of chicken soup down and makes his way into the kitchen to find a distraught looking Mrs. Hicks looking down at the mess she had just made.

Taking her gently by the wrists, he asks, "Are you okay…did you hurt yourself?"

"Oh…no…I'm just clumsy. I'm always dropping things." He crouches down to the floor to help her. "Oh, thank you. When Robbie was living home he's come running out of his room, 'mom, are you okay? Did you hurt yourself? Just like you did." He helps her stand back up. She walks over to the garbage and smiles, "I bet you've got a mother home who drops things too."

He feels the heat rise to his face as he stutters, "No, I don't…I mean…actually, I'm a…I'm an a…orphan." Why was that so hard to say? At 32 years of age, it wasn't as if this was anything new to him.

She looks horrified. "Who sent you cookies when you were in the army?"

A brief nervous chuckle, "Well, mostly the mess hall."

"Oh, that's a sin," she says sadly walking toward him. She puts her hands to his face, "a fine boy like you and nobody sending you cookies."

Then she stared him straight in the eye and gave him this unbelievable look. It was like she was looking in through his eyes and down to his soul. It brought a lump to his throat and tears to his eyes; it made him feel warm all over. So warm he could actually feel it melt some of the ice that had been building up over the years.

Growing up Face had heard people say things when they thought that he or the other orphans weren't listening. They would try to make themselves feel less guilty about their more privileged lives by making statements such as: 'they can't miss what they never had' or 'what they don't know won't hurt them'.

Oh, but how they were wrong.

Because, while it was true that he never had a mother…or at least not one he remembered…he still missed her. And standing in that kitchen on that day not so long ago, he let himself imagine what it would have been like to be Mrs. Hicks' son...and he hurt. He hurt for himself and what he never had. He also hurt for Mrs. Hicks and her son Robbie, and what they could possibly lose.

That's when Face knew he wanted to help her…needed to help her. He wasn't able to do anything about his own situation back then, but he and the guys could do something about this one now. And the looks on the Hicks' faces when they came back with the news that Robbie was on his way home was payment enough; the cookies were just an extra sweet bonus.

So, if the others wanted to think that cookies were the culprit, let them.

"Face," Hannibal said, turning around in his seat to look at the younger man who was staring out the window oblivious to his surroundings. Murdock and B.A. had already gone inside, but Hannibal had hung back wanting to talk to Face.

"Face," he tried again a little louder, taking note of the faraway look in his eyes. He put his hand on Face's knee and shook it lightly. "Kid, we're home."

"Huh?" Face said, distractedly. "Oh…um…yeah…okay." He moved to get out of the van, but Hannibal grabbed his arm and held him back.

"Listen, Face. I know you're angry about before."

Face looked down into his lap. Anger was too strong a word; disappointed was more like it. He was disappointed that they started mocking him before even letting him fully explain.

"You know we were only having a little fun, don't you?" When Face nodded his head without looking up, Hannibal said firmly, "Look at me and answer when I'm talking to you, Lieutenant."

When Hannibal called one of them by rank, it was wise to obey. Looking up Face said, "I know, Colonel."

"It was just a joke, kid. Try not to take everything so seriously," Hannibal said gently. He slapped Face on the knee playfully, then turned around and exited the van.

Face sighed. He was never a fan of the "just kidding" defense. If something was truly funny, then no apology or explanation should be needed after the fact. Still, he couldn't expect his friends to understand the depth of his feelings, especially when he was usually the one working overtime to cover them up.

Face Followed Hannibal up the path toward the "borrowed" beach house they were all crashing at. Hannibal waited at the door, holding it open for him. "I don't know about you, kid, but I'm starved." With a twinkle in his eye and a mischievous grin he asked, "got any of those cookies left you'd like to sell?"

"Aw, Hannibal," Face groaned.

"I couldn't help myself…I love it when a plan comes together."

TBC


	2. Chapter 2

Title: Bittersweet: A Christmas Story

Rating: PG

Warnings: Spoilers for "In Plane Sight"

Note: Liauno sent me the story idea (thanks Lia!) with the basic guidelines and I took it from there.

December 1985

Christmas had always been tough for Face. He could remember sitting in mass on Sunday mornings during Advent watching all the kids with their parents. And on Christmas morning they would come parading down the aisle, beaming ear to ear, dressed in their holiday best and carrying some new toy Santa had just delivered. He and the other orphans could just sit and watch and dream; dream that someday that might be them.

As Face got older, however, the dream changed. Too old to be adopted, he looked ahead to the future and the day when he would marry and make a family of his own. He would watch his own children light up as they opened their presents. And when he attended mass on Christmas morning he would finally be the one to parade down the aisle, beaming ear to ear, for he had finally received his gift...a family.

As the years passed by, the dreams faded, but never quite disappeared. Face would struggle through season after season, trying not to let his mood bring the others down. He would slap on his suit and paste on a smile, but all the while feeling as if he were coming unglued at the seams. It was supposed to be "the season to be jolly", but instead he just felt sad and lonely.

Face sat on his sofa and tried to read a magazine, but was unable to focus. It was mid-December, and the knowledge of what loomed ahead made him anxious. This year, adding to his usual case of the holiday blues, was that he hadn't been feeling all that great for a couple of days. His muscles were sore, his joints ached and he just felt physically drained. All he wanted to do was crawl under his covers and hibernate until the New Year made its arrival.

B.A. was talking on the phone with his mama, the one and only person who could turn off his "bad attitude" with a single pointed glance in his direction. She hadn't seen any military police in months and wanted to invite her "Scooter" and his friends for Christmas. B.A., of course, decided on the spot that Chicago was where they would go.

'B.A. looks so happy,' Face thought, watching as he hung up the receiver. 'In fact, he almost looks loveable and harmless.' Almost, but Face knew better and it wouldn't be long until B.A. proved it.

They had been batting around ideas about where to spend the holidays for weeks, and this seemed like the perfect answer for everyone. Everyone except for Face, that is. It had nothing to do with B.A.'s mother, or "Mrs. B", as they affectionately referred to her. Face enjoyed being around the older lady; she always had the ability to make him feel special and loved.

She made him feel like he was family…and perhaps therein lay the problem.

Going to Chicago at this time of year and seeing the caring relationship between B.A. and his mama would be tough to watch. But, oddly enough, he thought having Mrs. B shower him with attention might be even harder. It would remind him of what he had missed out on, and what in her own way Mrs. B was knowingly or unknowingly trying to make up for. He didn't want to be unfair to B.A. or the others, but he just wanted to stay home and hide from the memories. He couldn't do that when they were being forced in front of him the whole time.

"I don't know about this guys," Face said, starting to plead his case. "How can we be sure that Decker isn't setting a trap for us in Chicago?"

"Mama said there ain't been any MPs around. You callin' mama a liar?" B.A. growled puffing up his already massive chest.

"No, of course not. But just because she hasn't seen anything, doesn't mean it's not there."

B.A. took a step toward Face. "So now you callin' mama stupid?"

Hannibal stepped between the two men. He looked at Face and said, "You're going to get yourself killed, Face."

"I'm just trying to be the voice of reason. I'd rather not ring in the new year from behind bars, thank you very much."

"You're welcome," Murdock said.

"What?" Face asked.

"You said 'thank you very much' and I said 'you're welcome'"

Face exhaled loudly. "Murdock, be serious for a moment, would ya?"

"Sorry, no can do," Murdock replied shaking his head. "I did serious yesterday…today I'm flippant."

B.A. made a fist and shook it at the duo. "I'm gonna be 'flippant' the two of you outta this room if you don't shut-up."

"Face," Hannibal said calmly, "I'm sure we'll be fine staying with Mrs. Baracus."

"But Chicago is so cold…and I'm already feeling like I'm coming down with something." Face knew he was whining, but he was too tired and miserable to care. At this point, he figured that is what they expected out of him anyway, so he might as well deliver.

"It's one, two, three..." Murdock counted while pointing to himself, Hannibal, and B.A. "Make that three-and-a-half against one."

B.A. curled his upper lip and snarled at Murdock before turning to Face. "Which means you outnumbered, Faceman. Better scam us a bus or somethin'...we need to get started if we gonna get there by Christmas."

"Maybe I should stay back and, you know, keep an eye on things here," Face said ignoring B.A. and giving his appeal one last try.

Hannibal frowned, fully aware that Face wasn't particularly fond of the holidays. 'All the more reason to make him go,' he thought. "No way, Face. We all go."

"We ain't flyin'," B.A. said out loud to nobody in particular.

"It'll be fun, Facey," Murdock grinned and then started snapping his fingers and broke out into a song. "My kind of town, Chicago is, my kind of town..."

'Great, Murdock, you would have to choose now to turn into Sinatra,' Face moaned, rolling his eyes.

"We ain't flyin!" B.A. said louder while Murdock continued singing.

"But, Hannibal, I really..."

Hannibal cut Face off while sneaking up behind B.A. with a syringe. No buts about it, Face…we're going. All of us."

"But we ain't flyin!" B.A. practically yelled over the commotion.

"We heard you the first time, Sergeant," Hannibal said clapping B.A. on the shoulder to distract him and then jabbing him with the needle. They had  
>learned a long time ago to always be prepared for one of B.A.'s flying melt-downs in case they had to make a quick escape."<p>

B.A.'s eyes went wide with surprise and then he slumped forward. Hannibal grabbed him by the waist as Face lunged forward and pushed up his shoulders; B.A.'s gold hitting him in the face.

"We heard you, but we're not going to listen," Hannibal muttered while he and Face lowered the unconscious man to the ground. "Okay, now all we need is a plane."

"You don't seriously expect me to scam us a plane," Face snapped. "I don't even want to go."

Hannibal grinned, "Yeah, but if you don't, and B.A. wakes up here and not in Chicago, guess who he's going to blame?"

Face sighed, his shoulders slouching in defeat. "You win…I don't really want to ring in the New Year from a hospital bed either."

"That's my boy!" Hannibal replied, to which Face finally smiled.

They turned their attention to the still crooning Murdock. "Well, kid, you know what they say…if you can't beat 'em, join 'em! Hey Sinatra," he called out to Murdock, "how about we sing 'Come Fly With Me?"

Hannibal looked back at Face and winked. "I thought it was appropriate for the occasion."

"Why me?" Face groaned, as he watched two of his teammates singing to another who lay drugged on the floor. "Why me?"

TBC


	3. Chapter 3

Title: Bittersweet: A Christmas Story

Rating: PG

Warnings: Spoilers for "In Plane Sight"

Note: Lia sent me the story idea (thanks Lia!) with the basic guidelines and I took it from there.

They sat around the table eating, drinking and laughing...and then eating some more. It was Christmas Eve, and Mrs. B had gone all out, cooking them a feast the likes of which Face had never seen before. They had all dressed up in jackets and ties for the occasion, with the exception of Murdock who donned his t-shirt tuxedo instead.

To Face's surprise, he was actually having a good time and was feeling less tired and achy. They had been in Chicago for a few days, and all had gone relatively smoothly. He figured Mrs. B's upbeat attitude and home cooking could take much of the credit for the sudden change. Maybe he was wrong; maybe this year would be different.

The only thing any of them could possibly complain about at that moment was how full they all were; to say they were stuffed would be an understatement. And that was before Mrs. B brought out the chocolate cake.

"Oh Mama," B.A. rubbed his hands together in excitement and licked his lips, "you made your famous chocolate cake!"

"Sure did, baby," she beamed, as she started slicing and passing out the large pieces. "There's always room for dessert!" Sure enough, Hannibal, Murdock and B.A. found room, and dug into the cake.

Face, savored his first bite. It was bittersweet…the moment, not the cake.

Absentmindedly toying with the chocolate icing, his mind travelled back in time. At the orphanage there was a Christmas party every year. Each child received a small stocking with nuts and fruit and, if there was money enough in the budget, sweets and an occasional toy. At dinner, the food was fancier and a bit more than usual. At the end of the meal, the nuns would pass out an industrial made, plastic wrapped, slice of cake for dessert. It was a far cry from Mrs. B's homemade piece of heaven sitting before him now.

Every year, Face would sneak out his dormitory window after dinner to be by himself. He would hide out in the darkness and dream. He dreamt he was part of a family sharing a lavish Christmas dinner together. Just when he was so full he thought he might burst, his mother would bring out a big homemade chocolate cake straight from the oven. Everybody would have a piece and then adjourn to the family room where they would spend the rest of the evening opening presents in front of a warm fireplace.

Face could remember sitting out in the night for hours wishing on countless stars that his dream might come true one day. He enjoyed the time by himself and allowed the darkness to black out his reality so he could escape into fantasy, even if only for a little while. He did this year after year, but never told anyone. He felt guilty because after all at least he had a Christmas dinner and a roof over his head. He knew that some people had it worse, so he felt he should not complain. But still, when he finally got too cold and had to go back inside, his heart ached for what he was missing.

It hit him suddenly as he glanced up and observed the sight before him...his dream was finally coming true. Face looked back down and bit his lip attempting to hold back the emotions he felt bubbling to the surface. There he sat at Mrs. B's table with his friends eating chocolate cake. But, they were more than just his friends, they were his family.

B.A. watched Face playing around with his cake, and felt his anger growing. He tried to ignore it, for his mama's sake, but finally he had enough.

"Mama's cake ain't fancy enough for you, Faceman?" he started. "Would you have preferred us go to one of them fancy restaurants you always eatin' at?"

Face looked up. "What?" he asked, stunned. "I…um…no, of course not."

B.A. stood and walked over to Face's side. "I seem to remember you volunteerin' us for cookies before. And I know they wasn't as good as mama's cake."

"Just what is it with you and baked goods?" Murdock asked, to which Hannibal elbowed him in the ribs.

"Not now, Murdock," he hissed. Hannibal briefly considered stepping in between his Sergeant and Lieutenant, but decided against it and remained silent. It had been his experience over the years that sometimes it was best to not interfere when one of his men started to vent their anger. Especially when that man was twice as big and twice as mean as he was.

Everything seemed to move in slow motion as B.A. reached over and snatched the plate away from Face, knocking his arm in the process. All eyes followed the trajectory of Face's fork as it flew through the air and landed on the floor with a loud clank.

"Scooter!" Mrs. B exclaimed, horrified by her son's outburst.

"Sorry, Mama, but Faceman has got it comin' to him."

Face bolted to his feet, and locked eyes with B.A. "And just what is it that I have coming to me?"

"You like this every year man," B.A. said. "I'm sick n' tired of living with Mr. Scrooge."

"Bah Humbug," Murdock said, trying to lighten the mood, but getting another elbow to the ribs instead.

"What is wrong with you, man?" B.A. asked angrily.

It was a question Face had often asked himself, but had yet to come up with a definitive answer. Breaking his eye hold with B.A., he looked down feeling the usual Christmas angst return with a vengeance. Unsure of what to say, but sure that he couldn't tell them the truth, he said nothing. He thought back to the cookie incident B.A. was referring to and how the others had reacted; his dream was way too important for him to allow the others to make fun of it.

Face side-stepped past B.A. and turned to the visibly upset Mrs. B. "Thank you for a wonderful dinner," he said trying to smile. "It's getting late…I think I'll call it a night.

Face could feel them watching as he walked down the hall toward the bedroom he was sharing with Hannibal and Murdock. It was a two-bedroom apartment and B.A. had opted to sleep on the couch instead of trying to squeeze in with the rest of them, which Face was now greatly thankful for.

He sat down on the bed and lowered his head down into his hands. Hot tears of frustration welled up in his eyes as he wondered how things went downhill so fast. He could feel himself starting to tremble as the energy drained from his body; he was suddenly so very tired. It was probably only a matter of time before Murdock came looking for him, but Face didn't feel much like talking to him or anybody else. He just wanted to be left alone. If only they had let him stay back in L.A. none of this mess would have happened. They could have enjoyed their holiday and he could have just gutted it out and gotten through it as always.

The sound of a car backfiring startled Face and he jerked his body upright. The rapid movement made his head swim and he closed his eyes and grabbed onto the side of the bed until the feeling passed. The walls felt like they were closing in on him and his chest suddenly felt tight.

'God, I need some air,' he thought, as he struggled to breathe. He staggered over to the window, unlocked and pushed it open. The cold air hit him hard, but felt strangely soothing against the unusual warmth of his skin. He climbed out on to the fire escape and closed the window all but a crack to keep the cold air from getting inside. He felt as if he was a kid again escaping into the darkness on Christmas Eve. Sitting down at the far corner of the fire escape, Face leaned back, closed his eyes and started to dream.

TBC


	4. Chapter 4

Title: Bittersweet: A Christmas Story

Rating: PG

Warnings: Spoilers for "In Plane Sight"

Note: Lia sent me the story idea (thanks Lia!) with the basic guidelines and I took it from there.

Back in the dining room, Mrs. B had finally regained her senses and was putting BA straight about his behavior.

"Bosco Baracus! Didn't your daddy and I teach you better than to treat a guest like that?"

B.A. hung his head, "Yes, but mama…"

"Don't you 'but mama' me!" she retorted, waving her pointer finger at him. "And to think that Face is one of your best friends…well you would never know it!"

"But mama…"

"I thought I told you not to 'but mama' me!" Turning her attention to Murdock and Hannibal who were doing their best to become invisible, she asked, "And just what do you two have to say?"

Hannibal instinctively reached for a cigar, than frowned when he came up empty. He always thought better with a cigar, but B.A. had threatened to "shove them smelly suckers" up his nose if he brought them into his mother's house. But now he wished he had one to hold on to. Hannibal chose his words carefully. The last thing he wanted to do was to reprimand B.A. in front of his mother. Besides, Mrs. B sure didn't look like she needed any help in that department.

"While I don't like what went down here tonight," Hannibal started, crossing his arms across his chest, "I understand where B.A. was coming from. My Lieutenant hasn't been exactly easy to be around lately. Face just doesn't like the holidays,"

"He the Grinch!" B.A. spat out.

"First he's Scrooge, now he's the Grinch…make up your mind B.A.," Murdock rebuked, immediately shifting his seat away from Hannibal to avoid another elbowing.

Mrs. B shook her head disapprovingly. "Did any of you stop to think there might be a reason Face don't like this time of year?"

"All due respect, Mrs. Baracus," Hannibal said gently, "but Face isn't exactly open with us about his feelings." That was an understatement; the con man kept them under tight lock and key.

"Even so, did you ever take the time to ask him?" When her question was met with dead silence, she clucked her tongue loudly. "Didn't think so."

Murdock stood up and announced, "I'm gonna go find Face and see if he's okay." Looking at Hannibal for approval, he waited for the Colonel to nod before taking off.

After a few awkward moments for those left in the dining room, Murdock returned wearing a look of confusion. "He's not in our room or anywhere else in the apartment. But I found his jacket and wallet…I doubt he'd leave without them."

"He's probably just licking his wounds elsewhere in the building," Hannibal concluded. "Let's give him some time to get it together. In the meantime, I think we can handle the clean up for Mrs. B."

Mrs. B held up a hand and shook her head, "That's not necessary."

"We insist. I'll wash and," Murdock pointed at B.A. and grinned impishly, "Scooter here can dry."

B.A. growled at Murdock, then turned and ushered his mother out of the room. "You go on and relax, Mama." It was his turn to point at Murdock. "I'll make sure I take care of the garbage."

Mrs. B couldn't help but smile as she walked down the hall. She stopped at the linen closet to grab some fresh towels for her guests. It had been way too long since she had company and it was nice to have a full house again. She had plenty of friends and activities to keep her busy during the day, but it was the nights alone in the apartment that were the hardest. Nights and most holidays when she sat wondering how her Scooter was doing and wishing he were there. And even though this particular evening had taken a turn for the worse, the past few days had been so very special.

She entered the bedroom and placed a set of towels on each bed. Taking notice of Face's wallet sitting on the nightstand, a rush of sadness passed over her. She sat down on the edge of the bed and thought back to when her son first told her about the men in his unit all those years ago.

"_There's this guy named Peck, but we all call him Faceman."_

"_Faceman," she had laughed, "Why do you call him that?"_

"_There's a couple of reasons. First off, his real name is Templeton," he said, enunciating each syllable of the name for effect._

"_Templeton," she repeated. "I think it's a fine name."_

"_This comin' from a lady who named me Bosco and calls me Scooter," B.A. teased._

"_You hush up," she admonished, slapping him lightly on the shoulder. "There ain't nothin' wrong with your name."_

"_The main reason we call him Faceman is 'cause he got one of those faces that can work magic on people." He went on to tell her incredible stories of what the young Lieutenant had managed to acquire for them out in the jungles of Vietnam. _

"_I'd sure like to meet his mama someday," she remarked casually. "She and I would probably have lots to talk about."_

"_I'm sure he would want to meet her first. You see, Faceman grew up in an orphanage."_

She didn't even know him, yet her heart sank at the thought. When she did finally get to meet him a couple of years later, she could see why they called him Face. He was a strikingly handsome young man full charm and confidence. But she could see through it. She could see the sadness in his eyes and the droop of his shoulders when he thought nobody was looking.

When they arrived at her apartment a few days ago, she was struck by how pale and withdrawn Face appeared. He was trying his best to play along with the others and to keep up his act, but he was struggling. Mrs. B made it a point to pay him special attention, yet she was careful to back off when she felt like he needed his space. And her strategy seemed to be working…until she brought out her chocolate cake.

She had witnessed his eyes light up as he took the first bite of his cake. But all too quickly, that light went out and was replaced by a distant contemplative look. She wanted to ask him if he was okay, but thought calling attention to him in front of his friends might be the wrong path to choose. 'Unfortunately, that bone-head son of mine, felt differently,' she thought.

As if on cue, B.A. knocked lightly on the already open door to get her attention. "You alright, mama?" he asked.

"I'm fine. Just thinking."

"You're thinking about Face, ain't ya?"

Mrs. Baracus nodded and patted a spot on the bed next to her with her hand. After he was seated, she said, "I think you were a bit rough on him earlier."

B.A. hung his head. "I know…but mama, but I saw him sittin' there all miserable lookin' and I snapped."

Mrs. B put her arm around her son's broad shoulders. "Face is your friend, right?"

"Yeah, but…"

"You and your 'buts'…we gonna have to work on that."

"Aw mama…he didn't even want to fly out here to begin with!"

"Now if that isn't the pot callin' the kettle black!" she exclaimed, indicating B.A.'s intense fear of flying.

"Oh, you know what I mean. It's just that I don't get to see you very often, and Faceman been doin' his best to mess it up."

"Son, remember what I always told you…there are two sides to every story. Now do me a favor and go look for him…I'm startin' to get worried."

B.A. sat there a moment taking in what his mother had just said. She was right...as she usually was...but he didn't want to admit it this time. He was annoyed with Face, but they had been friends for too long and gone through too much together for him not to at least give the man a chance.

"Alright, mama. I'll see if I can find him," B.A. said getting up and offering his hand to help her up.

"Thanks, sugar," she said. "Oh, and Scooter, if you do find him...try to keep that "Bad Attitude" of yours in check."

"I'll do my best...but I ain't gonna make a promise I'm not sure I can keep," B.A. said good-naturedly and then exited the room.

Mrs. B wrapped her arms around herself as a chill ran through her body. 'Sure is getting nippy in here,' she thought. Her eyes went to the window and she saw that it wasn't all the way down. "Well, that explains it," she said to herself and then proceeded to shut and lock it up tight unaware that her missing guest was on the other side.

TBC


	5. Chapter 5

Title: Bittersweet: A Christmas Story

Rating: PG

Warnings: Spoilers for "In Plane Sight"

Note: Lia sent me the story idea (thanks Lia!) with the basic guidelines and I took it from there.

Face was brought back from the depth of his thoughts by a squirrel scampering across the fire escape. He had been so lost inside his mind that he didn't notice just how cold and stiff he had become. All the other times he had snuck out into the night as a kid he had been in California. And while it would get cool at night, it was nothing compared to the freezing temperatures he was experiencing now.

Face sat a few more minutes trying to mentally prepare himself for facing his friends…especially B.A. Finally, he crept over to the window only to find he couldn't budge it. At this point he was so cold that it hurt; his skin burned from the frigid air. He figured he had a few options: He could freeze to death, which might not take much longer at this rate. He could break the window, and in turn risk B.A. breaking his neck for damaging his mama's home. Or he could knock and hope to get somebody's attention.

Seeing that the first two options both resulted in death and/or bodily harm, he opted to try knocking. He figured that since nobody was in the room, knocking would probably just get the attention of his neighbors instead of his teammates. And with his luck, they would recognize him and alert the Army. Seriously regretting not taking the time to put on his jacket, he huddled back into a dark corner to wait.

'Face, where are you?' Murdock thought, entering the bedroom and flipping on the light. They had all started searching the building for Face a couple of hours ago to no avail. Surprisingly, it was B.A. who had come to them in the first place suggesting they start looking. Short of checking out individual apartments, they had looked just about everywhere. He heard a knock on the window and jumped at what he saw.

"Wrong…we looked everywhere but outside!" he said, hustling over to the window. He was in such a hurry to get Face inside that his fingers wouldn't cooperate and he fumbled with the lock. Once he got it open and the window up he reached out and basically had to pull his frozen friend through. Face could barely support his own weight and collapsed into Murdock's arms.

"Mmm...Mur...Dock," he mumbled through chattering teeth. "So...so...ccc...cold."

"It's okay, buddy, I gotcha," he said dropping to his knees from the force of Face's dead weight. "Hannibal! B.A.!" he called out. "I need some help in here!"

B.A. came lumbering into the room flanked by Hannibal. "What you yellin' about, fool?" he demanded. Surprised, he stopped dead in his tracks causing Hannibal to crash into him. Both men remained unmoving trying to process the sight in front of them.

"Don't just stand there gawking, I've got a frozen Face-cicle here!"

Face would have smiled at the comment if his lips weren't frozen. He tried to pull himself off of Murdock, but his limbs weren't responding to his brain's commands. Overcome with exhaustion, he closed his eyes and felt himself drifting away. The last thing he remembered before slipping into oblivion was a pair of muscular arms lifting him up.

"Sorry, B.A." he mumbled as his head lolled to the side and rested against the mass of gold.

"Hush...s'okay," B.A. said gently, his concern trumping any previous anger. B.A. frowned at the intense shivering he felt coming from the limp body and the grey pallor of his skin. "He cold, Hannibal. He real cold."

Hannibal put one hand on Face's chest and the other on his wrist. Mrs. B. came running into the room just in time to hear him say, "His breathing is shallow and his pulse is weak. If it's not hypothermia, it's close."

"Oh my goodness!" she cried. Her motherly instincts kicked in and she started handing out the commands. "Scooter, go draw up a warm bath. Hannibal and Murdock, get Face undressed and into the tub. I'm gonna go make some hot tea and turn down the bed for him."

Face was in and out of consciousness while in the water. They watched with unease as he mumbled incoherently and continued to shake violently. Finally, when his cheeks regained some color and his breathing returned to normal, they pulled him out of the tub, dressed him and put him to bed.

"One of us should stay with him until he wakes up," Hannibal said.

"I'll take the first shift," B.A. volunteered. "You all go get some sleep."

B.A. was torn as he sat there. On one hand he felt responsible for Face's current condition. After all, if he hadn't gone after him at dinner, he wouldn't have felt the need to hide out on the fire escape. But, on the other hand, Face was the one who had brought this upon himself by being so difficult. "You one complicated dude, Faceman," B.A. said softly.

As if in response, Face began to moan and thrash around in the bed. B.A. jumped up and put his hands on Face's shoulders to hold him still. "Face! Face! Calm down man."

"So hot, so hot," Face muttered feeling as if his body was on fire. He could feel something holding him down and he needed to get away. He struggled against his captor, pushing with all his might.

"Face! Wake up man…you gonna hurt yourself!"

"Help me," Face moaned, continuing to fight.

"What's going on, B.A.?" Hannibal asked, from the doorway.

"Dunno, Hannibal." B.A. said, maintaining his hold on Face. "He out of his head."

Hannibal placed a hand on Face's forehead. "He's running a fever." Hannibal leaned over the bed close to Face's head and started to talk calmly in a low voice. Gradually Face's body became still and he slowly opened his glazed eyes. "Welcome back, Lieutenant."

"Hannibal?" Face rasped. "What happened? Is someone sick?"

"Yeah...you are," B.A. responded.

He looked at B.A. and then back at Hannibal, blinking rapidly as if trying to focus. "I am?"

"Yes, you are." Seeing that Face was struggling to keep his eyes open, Hannibal added, "Now close your eyes and try to get some rest." Face was more than willing to comply and was out in a matter of seconds.

"He don't look good," B.A. said, running a hand through his mowhawk.

"I'm going to call Maggie and ask her what to do…maybe she can prescribe something."

B.A. just nodded his head, but kept looking at Face.

"You okay, Sergeant?" Hannibal asked, unsure why he was referring to his men by their rank. At tense moments, it just seemed easier; less personal.

B.A. cleared his throat. "Yeah."

"He's tough...he'll be okay." Hannibal put his hand on B.A.'s shoulder. "Now, your mother made a big Christmas breakfast for us all...why don't you go rescue her from Murdock. I'll sit with Face."

B.A. looked surprised. "With all this mess, I forgot it was Christmas."

Hannibal nodded his understanding. "This trip didn't turn out exactly like you planned, did it?"

"Nothin' with you guys ever does," B.A. smirked. "You think I'd be used to it by now."

Hannibal grinned impishly. "Look at the bright side…at least life isn't boring. Merry Christmas, B.A."

"Merry Christmas, Colonel," he returned, and then headed off to the kitchen.

TBC


	6. Chapter 6

Title: Bittersweet

Rating: PG

Warnings: Spoilers for "In Plane Sight"

Note: Liauno sent me the story idea (thanks Lia!) with the basic guidelines and I took it from there.

Face never understood the true meaning of the term "coughing up a lung" until now. His chest hurt with each jag, and he found himself gasping for air. And if he wasn't coughing, he was sneezing. Ironically, after nearly freezing to death, his body had retaliated by going to the opposite extreme. And though the fever wasn't nearly as high as it had been the day before, he was hot and sweaty...and miserable!

It had taken Face until the day after Christmas to somewhat regain his wits about him, and as soon as he had, the guys were all over him trying to figure out why in the world he had been sitting out in the cold. Too afraid of telling them the truth, he pretended to be sleeping or played up his delirium and said "I don't know". But he knew they weren't buying it. They assumed he was just throwing a temper tantrum after B.A. told him off and over being forced into coming to Chicago in the first place.

Regardless of the circumstances, Hannibal and Murdock had assigned themselves the task of getting Face well. Murdock was fussing over him like a mother hen. Constantly fluffing his pillows and asking if he was okay every other minute. Hannibal was force feeding him medicine he didn't want to take. It made Face dizzy and nauseous and unable to think straight. He liked to be in control at all times...especially since they never knew when they would get a surprise visit from Decker and be forced to run.

But even though Murdock and Hannibal were caring for him, they would talk at him or about him, but not to him. But at least they were talking; B.A. was avoiding him all together. Not that Face could blame him; he hadn't done anything to help matters. As far as he was concerned, the only person to blame was himself. Here he was a grown man, yet he was acting like a frightened child.

"You're such a coward, Peck," he muttered, then regretted it as it set him off on another painful round of coughing. He thought that if he could just breathe in some fresh air it might help clear his lungs a bit. It was a long shot, but at this point, he was willing to try anything.

Face swung his legs over the side of the bed. It was only a few feet to the window, but in his weakened condition it seemed much farther. He had only taken a couple of steps when he started feeling faint. His vision blurred as he reached out for the floor lamp to steady himself. Unfortunately, he missed and fell to the floor knocking the lamp down with him.

Mrs. B heard the crash from inside her bedroom and came rushing over. Seeing Face on the floor she knelt down next to him and asked, "Are you okay…did you hurt yourself?"

Face's heart skipped a beat hearing the very same words he had said to Mrs. Hicks a couple of years earlier. He lay there taken aback; unable to move and not trusting himself to speak.

Mrs. B gave him a troubled look. "You're not okay, are you?"

Feeling embarrassed, he wanted to reply that he had just tripped and was fine. But as soon as he opened his mouth, he started viciously coughing again. The ache in his chest and abdomen was so great that he rolled onto his side and curled himself into a protective ball. Mrs. B stayed on the ground with him, rubbing his back until the spell subsided.

Face's eyes were closed as he rolled onto his back and let his body recover. When he opened his eyes less than a minute later, he saw Hannibal, Murdock and B.A. standing over him. They stared at him expectantly, their eyes demanding an explanation.

"I fell," he said meekly, looking away.

"We can see that, sucker," B.A. groused, earning himself a displeased look from his mother.

"That's more than you said to Face all day," Murdock quipped. "Does that mean you're talking to him again?"

B.A. scowled, bending over to pick up the lamp, but made no move to help Face.

Hannibal held out his hand to Face and assisted him off the floor. Without words, the pair slowly moved back toward the bad, Hannibal doing most of the work.

"Okay, what really happened, kid?" Hannibal questioned once Face was settled.

"I couldn't stop coughing and I thought some air might help." Face took a ragged breath then added in a soft voice, "I was only trying to make it over to the window." At least, this time he was able to tell the truth.

"Ain't that window what got you in trouble in the first place, fool?

Face's pale cheeks flushed red. "No B.A.," he said softly, "my troubles started a long time ago."

Face's words hit hard; the tone of his voice was haunting.

Hannibal, Murdock and B.A. felt as if they were riding a roller coaster of emotions and Face was at the controls. They started out with anger, flipped to guilt, looped to worry and now twisted to sadness. It was frustrating and wearisome and not something they knew how to handle. The team had always been like a comfortable old shoe; it was a comfortable fit. But now it felt as if the old shoe had worn out, and they were forced into a new one. It was tight and uncomfortable…it just didn't feel right. The question now, was how to fix it?

Mrs. B could feel the awkward tension in the room. The four men in front of her sat stone-faced, looking straight ahead; they resembled a real life Mount Rushmore. She had held her tongue and tried to stay out of their issues in the hopes that they would work things out amongst themselves. It was becoming obvious that this wasn't going to happen any time soon.

"That's it…everybody out," she said sternly. "I think you boys need a time out."

"A time out," B.A. repeated. "Mama, you haven't put me in time out since I was five years old."

"Well, you ain't acting much older than that now, so I'd say it's appropriate."

The rest of the team began to chuckle, setting Face off again. He coughed so hard that tears were streaming from his eyes. He wiped them away with the back of his hand until Mrs. B handed him a tissue.

"You see what I mean. Face ain't gonna get any better if he don't get some real rest." She walked over to the door and held it open. "I want you three to go out take a break, and relax. I don't care where you go or what you do, but don't come back into this apartment until it's time for dinner, you hear?"

They walked single-filed out of the room, heads bowed, like little school boys being sent to the principal's office. Mrs. B shut the door behind them and took a seat in the chair beside Face's bed.

"Now, it's just you and me. I'm gonna make you some of my chicken soup. It's guaranteed to make you better."

Face smiled at the mere thought of it. The smile disappeared a bit too quickly for her liking. "What's wrong, baby?"

"I'm sorry…you know, for ruining everybody's Christmas."

"You did no such thing. And, it's not your fault that you're sick now. If you wanna blame someone, blame me." Face looked at her in confusion. "After all, I'm the one who locked the window."

"So that was you?" he grinned.

"Guilty," she replied, holding her hands up in mock surrender. Mrs. B leaned forward and rested her chin in her hand. "Can I ask you a question, Face?" Not waiting for an answer she asked, "what did you really think of my chocolate cake?"

Face's eyes widened in surprise; it wasn't a question he was expecting. "I thought it was the best cake I had ever tasted."

Mrs. B smiled knowingly. "I knew you liked it. I saw your face after you took the first bite…I could see the pleasure in your eyes. But, then suddenly you looked so…so lost. What happened?"

Face started wringing his hands together nervously; he didn't really want to go there. But there was something about B.A.'s mother that made him feel safe enough to risk sharing his feelings. "It brought back some old memories and then I realized for the first time that I really do have a family."

"A family with a pig-headed older brother who wears more jewelry than his own mother," Mrs. B joked.

"B.A. was right though. I haven't been much fun to be around. They just don't understand." Face ran a shaking hand through his hair. "And I'm too chicken to try to explain it."

"You know you can talk to me right?" Face nodded. "It might make you feel better to let it out."

And let it out is what Face did.

TBC…


	7. Chapter 7

Title: Bittersweet: A Christmas Story

Rating: PG

Warnings: Spoilers for "In Plane Sight"

Note: Liauno sent me the story idea (thanks Lia!) with the basic guidelines and I took it from there.

Once he started talking, the floodgates opened and he told Mrs. B everything he had been keeping inside. When he was done, she was right, he did feel better. But he was still nervous about letting the guys in. They had gotten closer to him than anybody ever had, with the exception possibly of Father Maghill. He trusted them with his life, but it was his heart he wasn't sure of. He was afraid and he told her so.

"What are you so afraid of, sugar?"

"I'm afraid that if I do talk to them, they won't understand. Or even worse, they'll think I'm weak. I'd almost rather them be angry at me than have them pity me." He balled up his fist and pounded the bed in frustration. "I'm a 34 year old war vet…and not to mention a fugitive…some childhood issues should be the least of my problems. What is wrong with me? Why am I acting like such a baby about this?"

"There ain't nothin' wrong with you, Templeton Peck," she said using his full name to try to break through to him. "You're probably feeling the way you do 'cause the child inside of you is still hurtin' about the past. You need to let him grieve and the only way to do that is to stop keeping everything trapped inside."

Mrs. B could see that Face was at the end of his emotional rope. He had just vocalized things to her that he had never told another living sole. He had started to tremble under the covers and his skin had taken on a grey cast to it.

"You feelin' alright, hon?" she asked placing her cool hand upon his warm forehead.

"Just a little tired," he yawned, closing his eyes. He intentionally left out that he felt as if the bed were rocking from side to side.

"Go to sleep," she said placing a soft kiss on his cheek and squeezing his hand lightly. "Remember, your family is here for you. You just need to trust them enough to let them in." Face squeezed her hand in return; she was right, but he didn't trust himself to actually do it.

Mrs. B waited until his head had dropped off the side and she was sure he was asleep before slipping out the door. Almost running into Hannibal, she placed her finger to her lips then mouthed, "he's sleeping".

Hannibal waited until they were in the living room before asking, "How is he?"

"About the same," she answered honestly. "John, I need you to do me a favor."

"Sure, if I can."

"I want you to call a team meeting tomorrow morning."

Hannibal frowned, not wanting to disappoint Mrs. B. "That might not be a good idea at the moment."

"Please John," she implored. "Do it for Face." She saw his expression softening; she had hit a nerve. "Trust me."

"Okay, I guess it couldn't hurt. Tomorrow morning it is."

After breakfast the next day, Hannibal, Murdock and B.A. walked into Face's room much like they had walked out the day before. They moved single-filed and silent and took seats on the bed opposite from Face. Hannibal and Murdock seemed anxious, while B.A. just looked annoyed.

'Uh-oh,' Face thought. 'What did I do wrong now?'

Mrs. B pulled her chair over between the beds and stood behind it, holding onto the back for support. "Y'all have been friends for too long to be actin' this way. You've been to hell and back with each other…can't you see that you're more than friends? Now, one of you is having a rough go of things right now." She paused and looked at Face with a reassuring smile. "I think it's about time he told you what was going on."

Face felt sick. All eyes were now upon him. They were waiting for him to speak, but he didn't know where to begin. "Mrs. B, I…uh…I don't think I can do this," he said softly looking up at her.

Moving around to the front of her chair, she sat down and looked him straight in the eye. "Yes, you can. And if you don't tell them, I will." It was a threat, but said with compassion and understanding, it served the purpose of giving Face strength.

"I think I owe you all an apology for what happened the other night," Face started, looking down at his lap.

"It's about time," B.A. grumbled.

Face's head snapped up at the remark. "I bet you had mama's chocolate cake after dinner every Christmas Eve when you were a kid, didn't you? Then you probably went to bed all excited waiting for Santa to come." Face could feel his blood pressure rising; his heart pounding in his chest. "You know what I did after dinner every Christmas Eve?" He looked over at B.A., and when the big man didn't answer he raised his voice and asked again, "do you!"

"No," B.A. answered simply, stunned by the tone of his friend's voice and the fire in his eyes.

"I would sneak out the window and sit by myself in the dark and imagine what it would be like to be somebody like you. To have what you had…a family who loved me enough to spend the time making me a chocolate cake. I wasn't disrespecting your mama the other day. I took one bite of that wonderful cake and it made me realize how lucky I now was to finally have a family of my own." Face took a quivering breath, and released it slowly. "That's what I consider you guys…my family."

He had never told them that before. He wondered if they felt the same way and feared they didn't. The anger seemed to drain from Face and he bit at his lower lip trying to hide his emotions.

"Who's the fool now, son?" Mrs. B asked with raised eyebrows.

"I'm sorry, Faceman. I didn't think…I wasn't tryin' to…to hurt ya," he stuttered. "Mama's right, I'm a fool."

Murdock smiled brightly. "Does that mean I can start calling you 'fool' too?"

"Not unless you want me to break your lips," he responded, holding up a balled fist.

Face grinned at the exchange and then cleared his throat. "Listen guys, I know I've been a real drag around the holidays. It's just that it's real hard for me; too many bad memories and feelings. That's why I wanted to stay behind…I didn't want to drag you all down."

"Face, why didn't you tell us about this before?" Hannibal asked. "We would have understood, but we can't understand something we don't know."

Face sighed deeply, triggering a coughing spell. Everyone jumped up at once to grab him a glass of water from the nightstand. It would have been funny, if his chest still didn't hurt so badly. The coughing subsided and he drank deeply before continuing. "I wanted to tell you guys, but it's hard for me to talk about my past. And then when B.A. mentioned Mrs. Hicks and the cookies, it reminded me of that time when I did try to talk about it. And well, you know how well that turned out."

"You're on a real roll, B.A.," Murdock joked.

"I'm gonna roll your head off your body if you don't shut-up," B.A. growled, more angry with himself than at Murdock.

"Oh geez," Hannibal groaned, rubbing at the stubble on his chin. "We totally blew you off, didn't we?"

"Oh, it's alright. I know you didn't mean anything by it." Face put his head back against the pillow and stared at the ceiling. "But sometimes I'm afraid that if I tell you guys something, you'll just laugh at me. I don't know…it's like you don't take me seriously sometimes."

"That's because, of all of us, you seem to have it the most together," Murdock said thoughtfully.

"If that's true, then I'd say we are all in some serious trouble," Face said with a half hearted grin.

"I can't believe I'm saying this, but Murdock is right," B.A. lamented.

Hannibal nodded. "Maybe you're a better con man than any of us ever realized. We wouldn't intentionally say things to hurt you. And if you feel like we don't take you seriously, you're wrong."

"Yeah, Muchacho…there is only one person on this team that isn't taken seriously, and that would be me. So stop trying to steal my thunder," Murdock teased, trying to look serious.

"I'll try, Murdock," Face said wearily.

Mrs. B sat back, arms crossed in satisfaction, smiling from ear to ear. 'Mission accomplished', she thought. Seeing the exhaustion written all over her patient's face, she knew it was time to wrap things up. "So are you all friends again?"

"No," B.A. blurted out bluntly, to everybody's shock. He surprised them even more by getting up, walking over to Face, and taking hold of his hand. "We ain't friends…we family."

It had been four days since the air had been cleared and Face was feeling almost as good as new.

Mrs. B had declared that as soon as Face was well enough, they would start over and have a full blown Christmas extravaganza, and today was the day. It also happened to be New Year's Eve.

"I'd like to make a toast," Hannibal said standing up at the dinner table. "To good friends, good food, and a most beautiful hostess."

Mrs. B blushed and smiled brightly at the compliment.

"Here, here," they all said clinking glasses.

"I wish you all a very Merry Christmas," Hannibal said, and turning to Face he added, "and a happy New Year full of happy new memories to replace some of the older ones."

"I'll drink to that," Face smiled.

And when Mrs. B handed out the chocolate cake later in the evening, she saved the largest slice for Face, who devoured every morsel of it.

And this time, there was nothing bitter about it…just sweet; the cake and especially the moment.

The End


End file.
